


oh, what a laugh it would have been

by spidermanhomecomeme



Series: all these things and more, darling [2]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, Michelle Jones is a Good Mom, Peter Parker is a Good Dad, Song Lyrics, Suggestive Dialogue, peter is a pushover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spidermanhomecomeme/pseuds/spidermanhomecomeme
Summary: A quiet falls over the apartment, a peaceful hush that only comes from two successful bedtimes in a row. MJ’s sat on the couch, curled up with a mug of tea in her hand, a book in her lap. He comes up behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, pressing a kiss into her hair. She hums, leaning into his touch.“How’d it go?” She asks as he jumps over the top of the couch, giving him a pointed, warning look when her tea dangerously sloshes in her mug at the movement.“Good,” he says, smiling apologetically. “She kinda forgot about everything when I asked if she wanted the dinosaur pajamas or the donut ones.”Michelle huffs out a knowing laugh, smiling fondly. “Which did she pick?”“Donut ones.”“A solid choice.”
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: all these things and more, darling [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055570
Comments: 38
Kudos: 84
Collections: Twelve Days of Promptmas





	oh, what a laugh it would have been

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO AGAIN EVERYONE!
> 
> This is a fic that I have been trying to get myself to write for TWO YEARS and it finally happened!! It's been just sitting in my head, trapped, until this year, and I am SO EXCITED to share it with you!!
> 
> Enjoy!

In the three-and-a-half years since becoming a parent, Peter’s learned a lot about himself. 

Or rather, things— _facts_ that have only been confirmed.

Namely, his ability to say no to anyone with MJ’s eyes and wild curly hair has all but disappeared. To be fair, it’s not like it ever existed in the first place. But still, he always likes to think he has some sense of control. 

“Can we read…” His little girl’s words are drawn out as she wanders up from his lap and over to her bookcase, seemingly taking her time inspecting each and every spine; a tactic she’s learned to drag out the bedtime routine. There’s a triumphant smile on her face, a true _a-ha!_ moment as she grabs one of her favorites. “This one?”

Any sense of that control Peter thought he had goes flying out the window when she turns to look at him, holding out the worn copy of _Corduroy_ —the one that Aunt May would always read to him. 

He’s figured out a workaround for this, though, always agreeing to less than what he’s actually willing to read. “Sure. After that, we’ll read two more.” 

“Three more!” She responds with a toothy smile, eyes crinkling as she holds up _three_ fingers. 

Sure, it might not be the best of parenting methods, but if it avoids another meltdown before bed, then it’s fine with him. He’s already had to deal with three this evening; the first, when he gave Lia her a sippy cup of water and, the utter _horror_ , the lid didn’t match the cup. 

The second, when she found out _he’d_ be the one putting her to bed tonight instead of Mom. MJ had already put Ben to bed an hour before, so it was only fair for Peter to take over. Sure, it tugged at his heart a little when Lia ran into her mother’s arms crying, saying she needed _Mommy_ specifically to read her books and sing her songs. 

But he gets it. He’s not MJ. MJ’s cool. MJ’s _Mom._

And the third; when she found out as Peter was carrying her off to her room and her big girl bed—the one she’s always so proud to tell everyone about—that they wouldn’t be lighting the Menorah tonight or opening any more presents until the 25th. Who knew that a toddler wouldn’t understand the concept of Hanukkah stopping after eight days? 

Three books later, and he’s placed her in the bed, clicked off the lamp, letting the soft glow of the nightlight shine, sitting on the floor beside her, his heart soaring in his chest as she holds her stuffed bunny close, snuggling into the blankets. 

“Sing me a song, Daddy!” She requests, stretching her arm out to him. 

“Okay, sweet girl,” Peter says softly, smiling. “One song.” 

She giggles. “Two songs!”

“Okay. Two songs,” he relents without hesitation. “Which one do you want me to sing?” He asks, taking her tiny hand in his. 

“Hush Little Baby,” she answers after a moment of thought, the _little_ sounding more like a _widdle,_ something that definitely tugs at Peter’s chest. 

“Alright,” he grins, his voice hushed. _“Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…”_ Her little voice picks up with his as she quietly sings along, her already drooping as struggles to stay awake. _“And if that mockingbird won’t sing, Daddy’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…”_ His thumb draws a line on the back of her hand, feeling as if his chest is about three sizes too small for his heart. _“And if that diamond ring don’t shine, Daddy’s gonna buy you a porcupine—”_

Sleepy giggles bubble up from Lia as she dramatically shakes her head. “You’re not singing it right!”

This goes on, Peter purposefully—and maybe even a little on accident—getting the words wrong, all to make his little girl laugh, even as he sings _Old McDonald_ for her. He can’t help but chuckle himself when she scolds him for saying _a bark bark here_ for the cow, or _a meow meow there_ for the horse. It’s enough to almost make him sing another one just for her, when he sees her nodding off. 

After kissing her goodnight as he tucks her in, he makes his exit, quick and quiet. Sneaky, like a spider. 

A quiet falls over the apartment, a peaceful hush that only comes from two successful bedtimes in a row. MJ’s sat on the couch, curled up with a mug of tea in her hand, a book in her lap. He comes up behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, pressing a kiss into her hair. She hums, leaning into his touch. 

“How’d it go?” She asks as he jumps over the top of the couch, giving him a pointed, warning look when her tea dangerously sloshes in her mug at the movement. 

“Good,” he says, smiling apologetically. “She kinda forgot about everything when I asked if she wanted the dinosaur pajamas or the donut ones.”

Michelle huffs out a knowing laugh, smiling fondly. “Which did she pick?”

“Donut ones.”

“A solid choice.”

“Yes. Very cute.” 

“Read four books, too,” he adds, resting his arm on the back of the couch, thumb softly grazing her shoulder. 

“Only four?” MJ asks from behind her mug, brows raised. “I can see why she wanted me to do it. Damn.” She nudges him playfully, hiding her smile behind another sip of tea. 

“Ouch,” Peter says, placing a hand on his chest, wounded. “At least I make up silly songs on the spot. I’m a good dad, okay?”

Her gaze softens, lips pressing into a faint grin as she takes his hand, interlocking their fingers. There’s a warmth in her eyes that always anchors him, that always makes him feel that overwhelming sense of home. 

“You are.” 

“And you…” He trails off, leaning in to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Are an amazing mom.”

She hums in appreciation when his mouth finds hers, slanting them together in a gentle peck. “I know.” 

He scoffs, more from amusement than anything. 

“You know what would make _you_ amazing though?” She asks lowly, her gaze drifting down to his mouth, her breath tickling as her lips ghost over his. 

“Mmm what’s that?” He replies under his breath, his arm on the back of the couch now fully wrapped around her shoulders, fingers subtly pushing the sleeve of her cardigan down. 

“Now that the kids are asleep…” She trails off, looking to the baby monitor on the coffee table in front of them. “I was wondering…”

“Uh-huh?” A sly grin tugs at his lips. 

It truly is the perfect time for this, he thinks. He’d always heard the stories of _certain activities_ becoming less frequent after kids appear in the picture, and while it’s mostly true—peaceful moments of quiet are few and far between when you have a one-year-old and a three-and-a-half-year-old crawling around the apartment—they’ve still been able to find some time for themselves. Especially in the late evening hours after putting their precious little ones to bed. 

Peter sits up, ready to pounce the second the words leave her lips. He’s learned to be ready for anything. 

“If you could go to the store and get me more of that winter earl grey?” 

Okay, almost anything. 

He deflates, eyes screwing shut as he hangs his head, laughing into his palm. “MJ… That wasn’t nice.” 

But he looks up at her, and the look in her eyes is enough to make him commit to anything ever. “Please?” 

It doesn’t take much at all for him to give in, rolling his eyes playfully as he hops up from the couch. He looks over at her, a satisfied little grin tugging at her mouth as she folds her legs underneath her. “I promise I’ll make it up to you when you get back.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, pointing a finger as he disappears into their bedroom to grab his suit—the faster he gets to the mini-mart and back, the faster she can make it up to him. 

“Please do,” she replies. 

She’s still curled up on the couch when he emerges from the bedroom, now covered in red and blue spandex, sans mask. “Winter earl grey?” he asks, though it’s not as if he’s ever made a mistake buying her tea. He always knows what she likes, what her favorite brand is. 

“Thank you,” she says, smiling behind another sip. 

And he pauses, unable to help himself as he takes the sight of her in; adorably curled up, looking so soft under the twinkling lights of their Christmas tree, her soft flannel pajamas, and he wants nothing more than to snuggle up next to her right at that exact second. 

He cracks a lopsided, somewhat dopey smile, still as gone for his wife as he was in high school. “Anytime.” He has his mask half-way on, almost to the window, when she stops him. 

“Wait,” she says, rising from her place on the couch, approaching him slowly. "Consider this motivation." Her hands find their way to his mask, holding it still just above his nose as she leans in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. 

It’s instinctive, the way his hands come to rest on her waist, his touch gentle as his gloved hand smooths over the plush fabric of her robe. 

But then, as he feels himself smiling against her lips, they hear a high-pitched gasp, and they nearly jump away from each other. 

From the archway, they see Lia peeking her head from behind the corner, little eyes wide with wonder, her mouth hanging open in surprise. 

“Ohhh no…” Peter hears MJ mumble under her breath. 

The problem here being that neither of their children know of their father’s second life. It was something that Peter and MJ had decided long before they even had kids, knowing that it would be better to tell them when they were old enough to understand—and old enough to know the concept of a secret identity. 

Certainly not at three-and-a-half years old.

In an instant, before either dumbstruck parent can say anything, Lia dashes down the hallway, out of sight, giggling to herself. 

“You couldn’t hear her sneaking up on us?” MJ asks. 

Peter grimaces. “Oops.”

But all hope doesn’t seem lost. 

“Ben! Ben!” Lia shouts, no doubt waking up her little brother from his restful sleep in his crib. 

MJ curses, chasing after her. 

“I saw Mommy kissing Spider-Man!” 

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyyyyyyy
> 
> @ thank u perfectlystill for the idea of the daughter's name <3


End file.
